If
there was one thing one Wolfram von Bielefield truly enjoyed, it was
training soldiers. He liked teaching, and he took great pride in his
soldiers. His soldiers looked up to him, treated him with respect,
and trusted his judgment. They didn't mind that he sometimes lost
his temper or yelled at them. In fact, they worked hard to earn his
praise. They were proud to have him as their mentor, and most
importantly, they were loyal to him.

Wolfram
was not the best swordsman in Shin Makoku, of course, but then again,
there were precious few who could claim to be his better. After all,
it was the formidable Conrad Weller, the ultimate swordsman, who had
trained him.

This
morning Wolfram was, as was his usual routine, overseeing his
soldiers' training. It was hard work, to say the least, because as
enthusiastic as they were, new soldiers were generally bumbling,
clumsy, and dangerous to others as well as to themselves. However,
Wolfram kept his temper by reminding himself that he had once been
just as bad. Well, maybe not quite as bad, he amended
ruefully. Anyway, he usually found it easy to be patient with his
trainees, even when it was only by the grace of Shinou that he was
kept from being skewered by their efforts.

At
the moment he was showing them – again – the proper way to handle
the sword without mutilating themselves or him.

"Practice!"
He hollered forcefully, then quite sensibly stepped out of harm's
way. Watching them through narrowed eyes, he found himself musing
idly over how ironic it was that he found it easier to hold his
temper with his trainees than with his fiancé.

"Excellency?"

Wolfram
grunted impatiently in reply, not taking his eyes off his recruits.
It was common knowledge that he intensely disliked being interrupted
during training.

"A
package?" Wolfram frowned, his eyes narrowing at the seemingly
innocuous burlap bag Dorcas held as though it was going to bite him
any minute. "Who sent it?"

Dorcas
swallowed nervously, eyes downcast as he mumbled. "A monk."

A
monk.

Wolfram's
heart skipped a beat, his mouth suddenly going dry.

A
monk.

Wordlessly,
he took the bag. He took a steadying breath, then broke the seal and
reached inside. His fingers closed around soft cloth, and his gut
twisted. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he drew his hand out to gaze at
what he held.

The
banner was a simple triangle of purest white, a single blue dove in
flight embroidered on its center.

/They're
here./

Wolfram's
grip tightened convulsively around the banner.

/The
Temple of the Winds - here./

The
banner burst into flame, and within seconds black ash fell from
between his fingers.

"Excellency?"

The
fearful tone cut through the haze that had enveloped the blonde
knight, and his head jerked up to find that the recruits had stopped
practicing, their attention drawn to his tense figure. They were too
far away to see what he had held in his hand, but they had seen his
reaction. Knew that whatever it had been, had upset him greatly.
Wolfram drew himself up, forcing calm.

"Training
is over today." He stated stiffly. Not trusting himself to say
anything more, he turned on his heel and left.

He
walked blindly, his thoughts racing madly around his head, until he
found himself in the room he shared with Yuuri. Blankly, he gazed
around the simple, yet elegantly appointed chamber, his control
splintering as a conflagration of panic, fear, and despair swept
through him. Shaking, he sank to the floor, his hand going to his
mouth to stifle the whimpers he could not keep back anymore.

/They're
here./

The
banner's appearance meant only one thing – his time had run out.

Tears
slid down his cheeks as he curled around himself on the cold floor.
/Shinou, what am I going to do now?/

-o0o-

"They
will be here tomorrow then."

They
were gathered in Gwendal's office – Gwendal, Günter, Conrad,
and Wolfram, to discuss the banner and its import. A hasty, secret
meeting while Yuuri was safely out of the way, playing with Greta in
the nursery.

Conrad
gazed at his youngest brother with barely-disguised concern. He
could only imagine the helplessness and fear the blonde prince was
experiencing. Wolfram had sought them out an hour after receiving
the package, and the brown-haired swordsman suspected that hour had
been spent composing himself. An admirable effort, he acknowledged,
since though his eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, his face pale and
white-lipped, Wolfram was at least outwardly calm. Only his eyes
blazed with emotion.

"Yes."
Günter said in reply to Gwendal's statement. "The banner
is always sent out one day before their arrival." The gaze he
directed Wolfram was filled with regret. "They are giving you a
day to make your preparations. When they arrive on the morrow they
will expect you to be ready."

A
day to say your goodbyes.

Wolfram
stood, unable to sit quietly and bear the pity in their eyes. He
strode to the window, gazing blankly over the kingdom. He could feel
the cool wind against his skin, but more than that, he could feel its
fingers curling around his heart.

The
Temple of the Winds.

According
to custom, the Demon King was free, whether by choice or politics, to
declare anyone he wished to be his fiancé. However, if,
after a year of association the King chose not to consummate the
engagement through marriage, the latter was then deemed unworthy and
the engagement dissolved.

The
King is then free to find another.

But
not so his ex-fiancé. Having been blessed by the King's
regard, no matter how fleeting, he or she is thus rendered
untouchable by any other being. To associate with another, to marry
another, or even to take anyone else as a lover, would be to place
that person on the same level as the Demon King, an unthinkable and
unacceptable discourtesy punishable by death.

Therefore,
to prevent the honor of the King from being sullied, his ex-fiancé
was cloistered in the Temple of the Winds. There, under the
watchful, though benign care of the monks, he was to live out his
days.

Exile.

Bile
rose in Wolfram's throat at the fate now looming over him. He had
failed. For one year he had done his utmost to make Yuuri love him.
He had shared his bed, if only to sleep. He had watched over Yuuri,
had kept the women out. He had risked his life repeatedly for Yuuri.
Had offered every service he could think of. Had all but offered
himself on a silver plate. He had done everything he could, and
still he had failed.

"We
have to tell him."

Conrad's
statement was met with silence. They all knew there was no other
way.

And
yet-

"Tell
him what, Conrad?" Wolfram said from the window, his low voice
carrying easily to the others. "Tell him that the Temple of the
Winds had come to rid him of a fiancé he had never wanted?"
His mouth twisted. "Cause for celebration, don't you think?"

"Wolfram
– "

"Oh
come off it, Conrad! What do you think he'll do once he finds
out?" Wolfram went on harshly, overriding Conrad's protest.
"Weep over his loss? Get mad?" His fingers curled tightly into
his palms. "We all know he'd be jumping for joy."

"That's
not true!" Conrad rose to the absent king's defense. "Yuuri
would never wish this on anyone."

No,
he would not. Wolfram knew that, in his heart. Yuuri was too kind,
too compassionate. He would be appalled were he to know what his
rejection had cost Wolfram. He would rail against it, would do
everything he could to change it.

But
therein lay the rub. Yuuri would do everything to help him, would
lay down his very life for him, but he could not love him. He would
do the same for anyone. It was just the way he was. He did
everything out of the kindness of his heart, not love. And love was
what Wolfram wanted. What he needed. He could not accept anything
less.

"What
can he do?" Gwendal interjected quietly, knowing the answer
to his question but needing to voice it out anyway.

" –
rot in exile." Wolfram turned to
face them, his eyes like living coals of green fire. "No, he
wouldn't, would he? He's too soft-hearted. Too kind. He'd
much rather marry me out of pity." He gave a short bark of acid
laughter. "Thank you Günter, that does sound like a
better fate."

"What
do you want to do?" Gwendal stepped in adroitly. "You know you
can't keep this any longer from the Maou." His gaze locked on
his youngest brother. "We've kept this secret long enough
because you asked it of us."

Because,
Wolfram acknowledged bitterly, he had hoped to make Yuuri learn to
love him before this day came.

"Tell
him, Wolfram." Conrad urged strongly. "Yuuri cares about you.
I'm certain he will not let the Temple take you."

"No,
he won't." Wolfram agreed. "He'd sooner destroy the temple
itself than let himself be the reason for another person's misery.
Hell, he'd rather be miserable himself than cause another
suffering." He took a deep breath and plowed on, unmindful now
that he would betray himself to his brothers. "But caring is not
love, Conrad." Wolfram pointed out painfully. "And I won't
have Yuuri marry me for anything less."

Silence
greeted his words. Here, now, was the admission they had known all
along.

Finally,
Conrad spoke up. "Would it be so bad, Wolfram?" He asked
softly. "At least once you are married you will still have the
hope of someday winning Yuuri's love. He already cares for you.
You're his best friend. I'm sure that with time that caring will
grow into love." He gazed at his brother earnestly. "If you
let go now you will lose everything."

Wolfram's
eyes slid away, his heart beating a little faster at his brother's
words. Hope. Conrad was offering him hope. He closed his eyes for
a long moment, and when they opened, determination glittered in the
emerald depths.

"Alright,
I will talk to Yuuri." Wolfram said, his gaze sweeping over his
brothers and Günter. "But, no matter how it turns out, no one
else is to speak to Yuuri about this." His eyes zeroed on Conrad.
"No one."

Caught
in the brilliant gaze, the others could only nod their assent. It
was Wolfram's fate, and thus, his choice.

-o0o-

Yuuri
could not recall a more uncomfortable meal as the one he had that
night. Everyone was quiet. Too quiet.

Gwendal
was grimmer than usual, his forbidding mien beyond stony. Conrad
gave him a small smile, but the brown eyes were troubled. Even the
normally voluble Günter was uncharacteristically silent. And
Wolfram –

He
frowned. Wolfram was like a cat on hot bricks. Oh, he seemed
fine, but Yuuri had come to know his fiancé very well, and
there was no hiding the tension that fairly bled from the blonde's
every pore. His green eyes were unusually bright.

Something
was terribly wrong, and Yuuri couldn't shake the feeling that it
was somehow connected to him. Something he had done, or not done.
He thought back frantically, trying to remember everything he had
done that day. Or the day before. But he came up with a blank. He
had suffered through all his lessons, had trained exhaustively with
Gwendal, and had met with all the dignitaries he was supposed to. He
hadn't spent an inappropriately long time playing baseball with
Conrad, and he hadn't even talked to any girl besides Greta, much
less engaged in anything that could even remotely be classified as
flirting.

Finally,
he couldn't take it any more. With a loud clatter he set his fork
down on his plate and raised both hands.

Four
pairs of eyes descended on him with varying degrees of bewilderment.

"I
mean – " Yuuri stammered out uncertainly, "there's obviously
something wrong, and maybe I'm wrong, but I don't think I am. So
that means it's something I did that's upset you guys. Well, I
can't think of anything I did. But if I did, I didn't mean it
and I'm sorry already, alright? Now will somebody please tell me
what it is?"

Wolfram
was the first to figure out what he was talking about. "Idiot."
He sniffed, though there was a marked lack of impatience in the
gesture. It was more habit than genuine annoyance.

"Your
Majesty, of course there's nothing wrong!" Günter rose to
the occasion with his usual aplomb. "You are the greatest King we
could hope to be blessed with. And even if you did anything wrong,
why, that's perfectly alright! You must never apologize to us,
Highness! It is our honor to serve you!" He trilled.

Yuuri
sweatdropped at the fulsome reply. "So, you're not mad at me or
anything?" The question was directed at everyone, but his eyes
were on Wolfram.

"How
can we be mad at you, wimp?" Wolfram shot back coolly, "You
haven't done anything."

Yuuri
stared at his fiance's suddenly unreadable face. There was
something in his words, something he was supposed to understand, but
for the life of him, didn't.

"You
are mad at me!" He accused hotly.

Wolfram
shook his head. "I'm not."

"Yes
you are!"

"I've
told you I'm not!"

"Are
too!"

"Am
not!"

"Enough!"
Gwendal's thunderous roar silenced the bickering couple. He drew
himself up, his gaze making the two feel like naughty children.
"Wolfram, I think you and Heika should settle your affairs in
private. Now."

Wolfram's
jaw clenched, but he nodded, rising to his feet.

Yuuri's
heart sank. He absolutely hated it when Wolfram turned quiet on him.
It presaged something much worse than the usual tantrum. However,
he obediently followed the blonde out of the dining hall.

-o0o-

The author would like to thank you for your continued support. Your review has been posted.